


Like Truth or Dare (minus the truth)

by dedalusdiddle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nerve (2016) Fusion, Background Relationships, Ensemble Cast, Fluff and Angst, High School, Humor, M/M, Memes, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Miya Atsumu - Freeform, Minor Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Minor Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Minor Shirabu Kenjirou/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Minor Violence, Social Media, Texting, Truth or Dare, Underage Drinking, all the second year captains are friends because i said so, but like they're only mentioned, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedalusdiddle/pseuds/dedalusdiddle
Summary: Akaashi remembers what he had thought about this morning. About walls and poker faces and facades. About keeping people out. About no one getting to see him as he really is, except for the few he allows close.Akaashi thinks he might be eating his words right now as he meets golden eyes that seem to pierce through his every defense.He takes the boy's hand anyways.Alternatively: I watched Nerve (2016) for the first time and started writing this immediately after.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. My Akaashi Sense Was Tingling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU DO NOT NEED TO HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE TO UNDERSTAND, everything will make sense. The overarching plot is essentially the same, but details have been changed to fit the characters and setting.
> 
> I hope you enjoy angsty dreamy Akaashi, 2nd year captains groupchat/friendship, lots of pining, lots of cliches, and a good bit of darkness mixed with fluff!

Akaashi Keiji is _not_ boring. 

He thinks about this while laying on his stomach, ankles crossed in the air above him as he clicks through the photos flashing across his laptop screen. His eyes scan them quickly, automatically checking for blurs, doubles, raised middle fingers, and anything else Takeyuki-sensei might deem inappropriate for the yearbook—but his mind is elsewhere.

Objectively, he knows he’s one of the quietest in the strange little group they have going (first place goes to Kenma, of course). And sure, he may be ‘studious’ in his mother’s words and ‘fuckin’ nerdy’ in Terushima’s. Hell, he may even be _lame,_ with his college prep classes and yearbook club duties and stupid stereotypical crush on the stupid stereotypical star of their school’s stupid stereotypical football team. But Akaashi refuses to believe he is boring. He just goes unnoticed by most people, which is perfectly fine by him. 

Besides, Terushima is hardly one to talk. Akaashi is in class 6, but his longest standing friend is in the even more ‘fuckin’ nerdy’ class 7. Everyone just thinks he’s cool because he bleached his hair and pierced his tongue during summer break in their second year, and because he’s managed to make being the only boy on the cheerleading squad an admirable trait rather than a bully-able one. Silently, begrudgingly, Akaashi can admit Terushima _is_ a little cool, since he himself can hardly imagine balancing the academics, athletics, and wild social life his friend has.

Honestly, Akaashi isn’t entirely sure how their friendship has endured as long as it has. With Kenma, it makes sense: they grew up near one another, they both prefer silence over forced conversation, and they both enjoy photography. Their friendship is comfortable. With Terushima, though, Akaashi finds himself feeling decidedly _un_ comfortable the vast majority of the time. Terushima is loud and obnoxious and daring, and Akaashi just _isn’t._ But, he thinks, maybe that’s why they work so well together. Akaashi reels Terushima in with blunt words and deadpan expressions, while Terushima pulls Akaashi out of his shell with his shameless confidence and unnerving perception. Speaking of which—

Akaashi’s phone lights up with Terushima’s name and the opening verse of N.W.A.’s “Fuck Tha Police.”

Akaashi groans, but grabs it from its spot next to him on the bed anyways. He’s used to this routine. Akaashi finds time to relax with his thoughts; Terushima’s sixth sense acts up, urging him to disrupt Akaashi’s momentary peace; Akaashi’s phone rings with whatever new embarassing ringtone Terushima has managed to set for himself. There’s no escaping, so he slides the bar to answer the call, Terushima already greeting him.

“Hey, bitch.”

Akaashi sighs. Again, he’s used to this routine. “Terushima, normally, the person answering the call speaks first.”

“That’s dumb. If I’m calling, obviously it’s me who has something to say.”

“And what is it you have to say?” There’s a pause. He has nothing to say.

“Doesn’t matter! My Akaashi sense was tingling, so I thought I’d see what’s up,” Terushima recovers, then deflects. “You still stalking Thing One?”

Akaashi instinctively closes the tab open on his laptop before cursing internally. The last photo—one he may or may not have been staring at for a few minutes now— _had_ been one of Miya Atsumu, the ‘Thing One’ Terushima likes to tease him about. But there’s no way his friend could’ve actually known, and now Akaashi would have to dig to find where he’d left off in the hundreds of images on the yearbook flashdrive.

“I’m not stalking him.”

Terushima snorts before replying, “Sure, Jan,” but drops it. “So what’s happening? I told you, my Akaashi sense—”

“Please stop calling it that,” he interrupts, but Terushima presses on, louder.

“MY AKAASHI SENSE WAS TINGLING, so spill.”

He knows the blonde will push until he gets an answer, so Akaashi relents. “I’ve just been thinking. School and— and everything.” Terushima waits for more but the line stays silent, until quietly, “What do you think is going to happen next year?”

This time it’s Akaashi waiting in silence. It lasts approximately four seconds before Terushima says, “Right. Okay. Anxiety hours, huh? Still thinking about declining Kyoto? I’m texting the group.”

“Wait, no—” Akaashi tries, but it’s too late. The line is dead, and his phone is already buzzing in his hand. He sees the message and sighs, but swipes it open anyways.

**Group: yuuji got HOESSSSSS**

**(Terushima Yuuji, Yahaba Shigeru, Shirabu Kenjirou, Futakuchi Kenji, Kozume Kenma, Ennoshita Chikara)** ****

**Terushima:** kaashis being insecure everyobe tell him u lov him

 **Terushima:** also tht everytings hoing to be okay nd well all be friends next byear

**Futakuchi:** lmao hoing

 **Futakuchi:** but yeah we <3 you akaashi

**Akaashi:** I’m fine.

**Futakuchi:** even if youre a bitch sometimes haha jkjk

**Shirabu:** You’re so fucking fake futakuchi

 **Shirabu:** What’s wrong, Akaashi?

**Futakuchi:** oh so you capitalize HIS name but not mine okay i see how it is

**Akaashi:** I just asked Terushima what he thinks is going to happen next year. Everything’s fine

**Yahaba:** Yaknow saying “I’m fine. ( *｀ω´)” really is the least convincing lol (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

**Shirabu:** Shut up, yahaba

**Futakuchi:** LMAO he didnt capitalize your name either yahaba thats hilarious 

**Yahaba:** Go fix your bangs, shirabu (☝︎ ՞ਊ ՞)☝︎

**Shirabu:** Akaashi, terushima may be stupid but he’s right. Everything’s going to work out and I doubt you’ll be able to escape these losers that easily

**Terushima:** ;((((( u r so meannn shirabut

**Futakuchi:** man is the only one shirabu respects in here enough to capitalize akaashi??? HURTS

**Ennoshita:** Sorry I’m kinda busy w film club stuff rn but just wanted to pop in and say yeah I agree with Shirabu, even if we go to diff schools and make new friends and get busy w other stuff, I think this group will still be around if someone needs help or to talk or anything :)

 **Ennoshita:** And that goes to everyone!! Not just Akaashi

 **Ennoshita:** Plus Akaashi, no matter where you end up going for school I’m sure your mom will be proud of you, and you’ll be successful no matter what!! Anyways I gtg good night everyone

**Shirabu:** Well said, Ennoshita

**Futakuchi:** okay and ennoshita then, DOUBLE hurts

**Yahaba:** I dislike this eMoTioNs☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ shit but yeah Ennoshita is right blah blah blah we’ll always be here for you Akaashi for real lol (^_−)−☆

**Akaashi:** Thanks I guess.

 **Akaashi:** Honestly I’m fine, please don’t worry about me and I’ll try to be less depressing.

**Terushima:** uou better ahahha becuase theres a PARTY tmrrow!1!!!!! after the gamr and AKAASHI is gonna get DRUNJ an were gonna have a gr8 time (filmikng him when he confessses to Thing 1 who looked so hoooot and sweaty and thirsyyyyy durinfg the game)

**Shirabu:** Learn to fucking type terushima

**Akaashi:** Not happening Terushima.

**Terushima:** ;)))))))))

**Futakuchi:** no one is responding to me :(

**Terushima:** shriabu!!! its even better becaufs USHIWAKAAS hosting ;)) whicj means HOPEGULLY well get more athn ONE DRUNk confwssion ;))))))

**Shirabu:** Blocked.

**Futakuchi:** feeling: ignored :(

**Yahaba:** Wait okay Terushima (´⊙ω⊙`)

 **Yahaba:** That game you’re gonna be playing tomorrow

**Terushima:** heyyyyyty kenji ;))) swing by mu place nd ill fix that ;)) wont feel ignoeed wiht me ill make yuo feel realllll special ;)))) 

**Futakuchi:** gross nvm

**Yahaba:** The online game

**Terushima:** yeye whta about it yahababy

**Yahaba:** Send me the link again, I told Kentarou I forgot my lunch so he’d give me the ¥2000 to sign up to watch ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

**Shirabu:** You are a terrible person

 **Shirabu:** And stop using those fucking emojis you Oikawa wannabe

**Terushima:** yeeehaw!!!!! i gotchu ill senf it in a sec

**Yahaba:** (=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

 **Yahaba:** Cursing really isn’t a good look on you shirabu ( T_T)＼(^-^ ) and it’s Oikawa-SENPAI to you ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

**Futakuchi:** wait wait whats this online game??

**Shirabu:** Oh no

**Terushima:** OoOoOOOoooOOoO SO BASCIALLY ITS CALLEF NERVE

 **Terushima:** AND

It’s at this point that Akaashi mutes his phone. That stupid game is all Terushima has talked about for the past week, and now that the conversation has steered away from him and his problems, he feels secure in signing off.

As much as he hates to admit it, talking to his friends _had_ made him feel slightly better about the whole situation. Deciding essentially your life’s plan at age 18, going off to university, meeting new people, getting involved in different organizations, leaving your family—for someone like Akaashi, the pressure sometimes feels crushing. Having friends that know what it feels like because they’re in the same boat helps to lighten that load, somehow.

They’re all still incredibly annoying, though. Except Ennoshita. Akaashi appreciates Ennoshita.

Done with both for the night, Akaashi plugs his laptop and phone in to charge and rises from his bed. He exhales deeply as he stretches his spine, feeling tiredness begin to set into his bones. He goes about his nightly routine, soft music echoing through the small apartment he shares with his mother.

As he slips into bed, freshly showered and clean, he decides to check his phone once more. Aside from the group, which is swamped with messages Akaashi won’t bother reading, he has four notifications. Two texts from Kenma and two emails. He clicks the mail app first. One is from Terushima; it’s the link to that online game he won’t stop talking about, and Akaashi elects to ignore it. The other is from Kyoto University. This is harder for Akaashi to ignore. 

Kyoto is…far. Far enough to give Akaashi the independence he craves, but close enough to hop on a train and be back home in a couple of hours. Kyoto University also happens to be his dream school. It consistently ranks in the top two universities in Japan, not just overall, but also for Communication and Media Studies and for Linguistics—the two majors Akaashi has been torn between. And best of all: he got in. By some stroke of luck or divine intervention, Akaashi was accepted into the school. But as the email not-so-subtly reminds him, he needs to make a decision, and fast.

However, it’s never as easy as just getting accepted. Akaashi’s mother is a nurse. She makes enough money to support their two person family with a small fund set aside for college. But it will never be enough for a school like Kyoto. Besides, his mother is still operating under the expectation that he will stay with her, studying at a local university to become a scientist like he had brashly claimed to her at age eleven. Those were humble, respectable plans. Akaashi’s plans now, though, might break his mother’s heart. To leave her, drain the money she had lovingly saved within his first year, all to pursue an uncertain future in editing and literature… No, it’s never as easy as just getting accepted.

Akaashi closes the mail app. He’ll deal with that later.

In his messages, he quickly clears the messages from the group from his phone. He doesn’t need his mother asking him why exactly he’s in a group labeled ‘yuuji got hoes.’ Finally, he opens Kenma’s texts. He wasn’t surprised that his quiet friend had never responded in the larger group—he probably muted the notifications the instant he saw the name ‘Terushima Yuuji’ appear on his phone. But Akaashi _is_ slightly surprised to see him reaching out one on one. 

**Kozume Kenma**

**Kenma:** terushima is annoying. hope everything really is okay. kyoto would be lucky to have you, but so would anywhere. or you can stay in tokyo with me. win win, level up no matter what.

 **Kenma:** goodnight keiji.

Akaashi smiles to himself but doesn’t bother replying. Kenma couldn’t care less whether he does or not, and it’s clear the effort of his momentary optimism drained him. Akaashi cherishes the attempt either way. Kenma is a good friend.

As Akaashi drifts to sleep, he thinks to himself that really, all of his friends are good friends. Even if they talk way too much about things he finds pointless, like parties and crushes and online games that are probably illegal.

And with that, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious, I do like to make soundtracks for my writing, especially for a fic like this where I was heavily inspired by music. If music in fics isn't your thing, feel free to ignore :)
> 
> Songs for this chapter include: "Sincerity Is Scary" -The 1975, "Fuck Tha Police" -N.W.A., "Yes I'm Changing" -Tame Impala


	2. Oops!... I Did It Again

Akaashi startles awake to the unwelcome voice of an American popstar blaring through the wall between his room and his mother’s, followed by a string of obscenities from the woman herself. He groans, shoving a pillow over his head to try and block out the words he knows are coming, but it’s no use.

From their tiny kitchen, he hears, _“Bluetooth speaker connected. Good morning, Akaashi-san.”_ Then, impossibly loud, _“-did it again. I played with your heart, got lost—”_

The music thankfully cuts off as his mother answers the call.

Akaashi is used to this kind of wake up. Years of built up stress and exhaustion from working at an emergency center mean the frazzled nurse frequently oversleeps. The irate calls always come soon after, her boss/friend’s shabby silver sedan undoubtedly waiting outside the Akaashis' apartment building to pick her up.

Once, Akaashi-san had tried to explain to her son the humor behind setting that ringtone for her boss, who only calls when she’s making the carpool late to work, but the effect was lost on the high schooler. First Terushima, then his own mother—he just doesn’t understand the obsession with American music, comedic value be damned.

Grumpily, Akaashi thinks to himself that all comedy should be banned until after 9:00 a.m., at the very earliest. There’s nothing funny about losing valuable sleeping time. But as he hears his mother clambering about her room, he resigns himself to awakeness at this godawful hour of—

Akaashi checks his phone—

6:52. Gross. And on a Saturday, no less.

There are hours before he’s expected anywhere, so he settles down with his phone to check his notifications and waste some time. He _is_ a teenager after all.

Having received no response to his last email, Terushima seems to have taken it upon himself to send Akaashi that stupid game link four more times. Akaashi immediately deletes them. Left in his inbox is an email from Takeyuki-sensei to him and Kenma regarding the football game later and their duties as yearbook photographers. He bookmarks this for later.

Really, Akaashi doesn’t get the hype or the purpose of having an American football team at their _Japanese_ high school. However, he must admit that the team isn’t half bad, and its existence means Akaashi has an excuse to photograph their star quarterback in various states of sweatiness and undress without being (justifiably) labeled a stalker. It’s just unfortunate that Kenma, the perceptive bastard, happened to catch on to his crush biological response to visual stimulation, and that Terushima, in one of his rare moments of silence, happened to hear Kenma ask Akaashi about it. Naturally, Terushima couldn’t keep his mouth shut, so now their entire group is aware of Akaashi’s weakness.

Stupid biology. Stupid Miya Atsumu, with his stupid attractive haircut and stupid lazy smile and stupid mucscles and stupid cocky persona and stupidly impressive talent on the field. Akaashi thinks maybe he needs to stop thinking the word ‘stupid.’ It’s becoming a bit excessive.

Attractive men, bodily reactions, and nosy friends aside, Akaashi has a job to do later. It’s the final game of the season and if they win, they’ll be the top seeded high school going into next year. Of course, ‘next year’ is a frightening term for a team with two star players graduating (Miya Atsumu as quarterback and twin Miya Osamu as his runningback—a terrifying duo), but they had managed to make do after Ushijima, a top three wide receiver nationally, graduated last year. And if what Terushima said last night was correct, Ushijima would be hosting the game’s afterparty, which means they had _better_ win.

Since this game is so important, Takeyuki-sensei wants him and Kenma to document everything from the team’s warm ups to the cleaning crew sweeping the stands after the crowds depart. Which still leaves Akaashi with approximately three hours before he needs to do anything.

He hears his mother’s bedroom door open, followed by a series of clangs and thumps as she presumably packs herself a haphazard lunch.

“Do you need any help, mom?” he calls, semi-reluctantly. The ‘No, thank you Keiji’ he receives in response is music to his ears. Back to his phone.

Unsurprisingly, the group message has reappeared in his texts. Akaashi checks the most recent ones.

**Group: yuuji got HOESSSSSS**

**(Terushima Yuuji, Yahaba Shigeru, Shirabu Kenjirou, Futakuchi Kenji, Kozume Kenma, Ennoshita Chikara)**

**Terushima:** FOOTNALL IS BAKC BAABYYYYY 

**Terushima:** Let me tell you what real football is: Thats fucking football right there. None of that pansy ass dick tugging smile for the camera bullshit. Men puke, men poop on the field, men deliver their new born baby on the side lines. Fucking hard core dick in the ass butterball foosball fuck it chuck it game time shit. Take it to the showers. Dicks get shoved in places you don’t even remember. We win together we celebrate together. Football is back baby.

**Futakuchi:** Stop Grinding?😂 The Grind Never Stops💯 No Breaks😈 We Stay Dream Chasing💪I don't get a break ✊ I'll be out here grinding 😈 Imma be chasing dreams while you're lounging 💯 the only thing i'm chasing🏃🏽😈is my dreams💭✊🏽keep grinding 💯RIP grandma👵🏼Romans 8:1🙏🏼busy?😂 you don't know🤔 what busy is 🏃🏽fam👐🏻 i won't🙅🏻ever stop my grind💯nothing gets handed to me 🙄🙅🏻♂️ I work for everything I got ‼️but we ain't done yet 💯😈👀 Nap?😂 I don't know that word😴 while you taking Z's 💤 I'm making W's🙌🏆U snooze you lose😤🤘can kill my ambition💯😈🙏🏻 i will never stop grinding🙏🏻even when im dead sleep is for the weak😴💯 U mean my TEAM⁉️ONE eats, we ALL eat🍽We out here grindin' together💪😤 THAT'S family💯😈

**Shirabu:** Being in band doesn’t make you a student athlete, futakuchi.

**Yahaba:** lol literally no one:

 **Yahaba:** shirabu: Do you know who the fuck you're talking to right now? I'm a 4.0 STEM major with a full ride to a top ten university. I'm in the 97th percentile of IQ intelligence (the test wouldn't go any higher). I literally tip the scales with my intelligence. I don’t ‘run,’ I run code. I don’t ‘throw,’ I throw off curves with my ridiculous test scores. I don’t ‘jump,’ I jump educational standards. Something you filthy plebeians could never understand. Have fun at community college with your worthless degree, scum.

**Ennoshita:** It’s 3am the next person that sends a copypasta at 3am I will destroy you and everything you hold dear :)

Akaashi is… unsurprised. But his friends _had_ helped last night, and there’s an easy way to pay them back and absolutely delight them in the process (sans Ennoshita, but in all fairness, it’s not 3 a.m. now), so he does a quick search online before sending a new message.

**Akaashi:** Yahaba and the weird hate sex he has with his boyfriend: 

**Akaashi:** Let's get one thing about me "straight" up front. When it comes to sexuality, I'm as hetero as they come. If a gay guy came on I'd be like, "No way, bro I'm a straight-up party boy who's into chicks." Yup, one gay dude wouldn't stand a chance. It would take at least four or five gay guys strapping me down to make it inside me. Sorry, fellas, that's just how straight I am. And once they got me strapped down, I'd stop fighting it because that would be giving them what they want. And I don't want them to enjoy it. If anyone's going to enjoy it, it's going to be me. So, I'd just relax into it and taunt them by telling them how ripped and sexy I find them

Akaashi mutes the group before anyone responds. He doesn’t know if anyone is awake yet, but he figures he can deal with them later even if they are. However, he’s quickly running out of things to do on his phone. Social media it is, then. 

As Twitter loads, his mother wishes him a good day before sweeping out of the apartment. He hollers back his own farewell, but she’s already gone. Akaashi wishes this wasn’t such a familiar occurrence. Since his father had packed up overnight all those years ago, his mother has worked herself to the bone keeping the two of them afloat. He loves her dearly, but they aren’t close; her too busy with work and him too busy with keeping up expectations to ever bridge the gap between them. That’s partly why Akaashi hasn’t been able to bring himself to tell her about Kyoto and his dreams. He doesn’t want to disrespect her sacrifice.

Of course, the universe hates Akaashi, so the first thing to appear on his Twitter timeline is a promoted ad for Kyoto University. Typical. Technology is crazy now, what with all the monitoring software around listening to people speak and reading their messages.

As he scrolls, his irritation isn’t assuaged. It seems every other tweet he crosses is about that same online game—Nerve, or whatever. From what he sees, the whole premise of it is to _embrace_ the terrifying technology that tracks one’s entire existence, all while completing idiotic, life-endangering tasks personalized to each Player. Akaashi is not boring, but he also is not stupid (there’s that word again; maybe he’s being too judgmental? He doubts it.). He knows the age of privacy is dead, but to willingly and enthusiastically allow an unregulated game to weaponize that lack of privacy seems utterly nonsensical. 

And then there are the Watchers. Akaashi thinks this is perhaps the most disturbing element. People (like Yahaba, and probably the rest of their friends) pay ¥2000 to watch, record, and suggest more dares. The more Watchers a Player has, the better that Player ranks. Akaashi can’t—doesn’t _want_ to—imagine having thousands of people filming and observing him. 

When people watch, they see what they want to see, not what’s truly in front of them. And even if they did see the reality, that would just mean he’s exposed, raw and ready for judgment. Akaashi has spent years building up his walls, perfecting his poker face, constructing a facade of dry humor and seriousness. Making himself so _boring_ to other people that they’d wouldn’t _want_ to look any closer. That way, Akaashi is safe. He chooses who gets to approach, and even they—his friends, his mother—can be held at arm’s length. 

Akaashi feels himself sinking deeper into his thoughts as he scrolls mindlessly. That is, until he pauses on Terushima’s latest tweet.

_futacutie ;) and 22 others liked_

**they call me Mr. Close-Cropped Hair** @yuu_ji_oh · 1h

NERVE STARTS 2DAY!!! HOPE UR ALL ALREAFY SIGNEDD UP 2 WATCH ME PLAY @YUU_JI_OH @YUU_JI_OH @YUU_JI_OH MY FIRST DARE IS 2 LEAK MY OWN NUDES SO ENHOY ;)))))) https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1Em-Ni-lkEsXlUveGkcf-u7WMbpz9_sse?usp=sharing

Akaashi turns off his phone. Social media and Terushima have both, once again, disappointed him. But he had successfully burned some time. It’s nearing 7:30 now, which means he has just over two hours before Kenma comes to pick him up. Since he doubts he’d be able to fall back asleep, he pulls out his laptop to finish filtering through the photos. Might as well be productive.

As his computer loads the flash drive’s files, he quietly puts on some soothing music, making sure there’s words in each song queued up. It’s better that Akaashi doesn’t let himself fully spiral into his trademark existentialism on this particular morning, and the music should help.

It’s over an hour later when Terushima interrupts his focus via Skype call. Akaashi resents the obnoxious face in the corner of his screen but clicks the green phone button anyways. As usual, the blonde is already speaking when the audio connects.

“Sup, bitch.” From what Akaashi can see, he’s already dressed in his cheerleading uniform, his hair artfully slicked back.

“Using my time wisely, until you called.” What can he say? Akaashi’s only polite to those who deserve it.

Terushima gasps melodramatically, “You’re saying that talking to _me_ , your _best friend_ , isn’t a valuable use of time?”

“Correct,” Akaashi deadpans.

“That’s harsh, ‘Kaashi. Real harsh. And here I am, calling to check up on my dear friend after a crisis. Oh, to be unappreciated by those you care for most.” Annoying. Terushima’s lamenting is annoying.

“It was not a crisis. Don’t you have things to do? A football game to cheer for? Sketchy games to play?” Akaashi attempts to get the other to hang up. He fails.

“Oooooo! Speaking of football! Did you see Thing One’s Facebook post? He tagged you in it.”

 _“What.”_ Akaashi hastily opens Facebook and—

Holy shit. Akaashi just… needs a second. To process. Terushima hadn’t lied; there is a new notification Akaashi’s wall (and aren’t those words a bit overwhelming—‘Miya Atsumu is with Akaashi Keiji.’ But ‘is with’ is, unfortunately, a phrase that requires context, and the context of this particular Facebook post is utterly disappointing). Akaashi recognizes the photo. It’s his own, after all.

It’s from their previous football game, where even to Akaashi’s untrained eye, Atsumu had stood out as the obvious star of the field. His plays had led them to victory, and in a moment of utter joy, he had turned towards Akaashi with a brilliant smile. The low-set sun struck fire to the golden strands of his hair, his sweat glimmered like gems on glowing, tanned skin, and his glinting eyes spoke of mischief and hunger. He was beautiful. 

Akaashi almost hadn’t wanted to take the photo, because doing so would allow others to intrude in that moment. But he raised his camera anyways, because Akaashi Keiji may be boring but Miya Atsumu certainly is not, and because Akaashi holds no claim over boys he finds beautiful, and because beautiful boys deserve to be seen in the light of a sun that seems to set for them alone.

The shutter had clicked closed and so had the moment. Atsumu had turned to punch Osamu in the shoulder, who then punched Atsumu in the face; Akaashi had turned to photograph Kyoutani, sweaty from playing and from carrying Yahaba who clung to his neck like a lifeline. The sky’s orange muddied with streaks of purple. A half-second shared between two boys was lost to the night.

Until Akaashi gets bitch-slapped by it on his own Facebook page. God, Atsumu is too hot for his own good. For anyone’s good, really. Akaashi thinks that photo just sapped at least two years off his lifespan. Then he remembers Terushima can still see him, and he is grateful once again that he perfected his poker face ages ago. He closes the browser.

“That was cruel, Terushima.” Akaashi levels him the driest look he can manage. The blonde has the decency to look at least slightly cowed.

“What?” He says defensively, “I just told you he’d tagged you in a post, not that he’d asked for your hand in marriage.”

There’s a silence Akaashi elects not to fill. Terushima wisely changes the subject.

“Anyways… Did you see the link I emailed you? Did you click on it? I wanted to be sure you got it after you didn’t respond the first time!”

That’s bullshit and Akaashi knows it, Terushima knows it, and Terushima knows Akaashi knows it. But Akaashi also knows Terushima’s will to pester is greater than his own will to resist, so he opens the email again. When he clicks the link, a new window pops up. Akaashi doesn’t recognize the app icon, but before he can think about that much, a robotic voice rattles through his laptop speakers.

_“Welcome to Nerve Tokyo. Nerve is a 24-hour game. Like Truth or Dare, minus the Truth. Watchers pay to watch. Players play to win cash and glory. Are you a Watcher or a Player? Are you a Watcher or a Player? Are you a Watcher or a Player?”_

On the screen, a series of strange animations, GIFs, and video clips play. The final image contains a mere three words stacked on top of each other, all in pulsing neon text: NERVE, WATCHER, PLAYER. Akaashi feels more than mildly unsettled.

“Terushima. There is no way this is legal.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine! Just click on Watcher, please? I hit 300 earlier, which makes sense for six in the morning, but it’s still way too low. Watchers are really important. I neeeeeeeeed you, Akaashi!” Terushima bows his head and clasps his hands in front of him. His begging is, somehow, even more annoying. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Terushima groans. “Because it’s _fun,_ you absolute buzzkill. And I want to win. _Pleeeaaseee,_ Akaashi, just click Watcher.”

Akaashi replies, “maybe later,” even though he has no intention of participating in such a creepy game, because it’s the quickest way to get the overgrown child off his back.

Said child groans again, but accepts the answer for the meantime. “Okay, loser. I should probably go. My next dare is to start a game of ‘The Floor is Lava’ and get four or more strangers to join in, so I’m waiting on Futakuchi to pick me up. We’re going to that convenience store down the street. And when I see you at the game later, you better be signed up to watch me! Love you! Bye, bitch!”

The line is dead before Akaashi can respond. Terushima is a menace. He closes his laptop and grabs his phone; he can finish weeding through the rest of the photos another time. He’ll have more to go through after today, anyways. 

Akaashi is surprised to see Kenma has texted him again so soon, but the reason becomes apparent quickly.

**Kozume Kenma**

**Kenma:** takeyuki wants us there when warm ups start at 10, so ill be at yours in 30 min.

Akaashi sends a short message back telling Kenma he’ll be ready then, before deciding it’s probably time for him to actually get ready. As he goes through his routine (choosing an outfit, brushing his hair, brushing his teeth, putting in contacts because no one needs to see his ugly glasses from grade 6), he considers the likelihood of having another _moment_ with Atsumu in post-victory bliss. Akaashi thinks about being lifted and spun around on the field like the girlfriends of professional athletes; he thinks about arms, corded with muscle, wrapping around his waist and dipping him low to the ground; he thinks about soft lips and playful eyes; he thinks about the setting sun burning the image of a beautiful boy and the boy who calls him beautiful into the retinas of everyone around, similar to the way a camera uses light to burn an image into film, capturing a half-second moment forever.

Akaashi thinks about how this will never happen.

Akaashi thinks, if romanticism stings this bad, maybe he prefers his existentialism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write most of the copypastas (some of them I edited/added to for humor and to make them more appropriate for this fic) and the 'robotic voice' part is taken directly from the Nerve film. Also I made an empty folder in my google drive, copied that link for terushima's tweet, and then deleted the folder, but just in case maybe don't try to search that link lmao.
> 
> Songs for this chapter: "Oops!... I Did It Again" -Britney Spears, "Evil Spider" -BENEE, "Crush" -Tessa Violet, "Naked" -Bickle


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